


Panthera Custos

by Anonymous



Series: SlyAnon's Monster Collection [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (Unwillingly), (it's mild but it's there), AFAB Terminology, AMAB Terminology, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And Also Very Dull And Not Sharp At All, And Then Gets Fucked By The Lion, Aphrodisiacs, Barbed Penis, Basically The Lion Thinks The Omega is a Living Sex Toy, Bestiality, Blood and Violence, But In The Horniest Way, Cervix Penetration, Cocksleeve, Courier Somehow Gets Fucked By Saddle, Dumbification, Exhibitionism, Fantasy Intersex Omegas, For Chapter 1:, For Chapter 2:, For Chapter 3:, For Chapter 4:, Forced Orgasm, High Fantasy, I Forgot To Add These But They're In All The Chapters, In Front of An Angry Mob, Knotting, Love Confessions, Mild Degradation, Mind Break, Multiple Orgasms, No Extreme Gore, Non-Consensual Handjobs, Objectification, Oral Sex, Other, Predicament Bondage, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Punishment, Pussy Spanking, Rituals, Romanticized Noncon, Sparring, Specifically the Penile Barbs Are Venomous But Like Sexily, Squirting, Surprise Sex, Tags Are Fun, The Lion Acts Like an Evil Mobile Sybian, The Prince Is A Dick And The Lion Fucks Him As Punishment, Theft, There's Cervix Penetration In Chapter 3 Too, Vaginal Sex, Watersports, the mind break in this one comes and goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Come on, princey,” one onlooker calls out. “Some of us want a show.”“Think of it as accepting the consequences for your actions,” another says.Someone snickers. “That’s a pretty big consequence for a tiny peach to handle.” Adri's face burns as the crowd rumbles with laughter. The lion chuffs, its yellow eyes squinted in pleasure as it presses the prince harder into the ground.---Or, loosely related stories where some magical lions fuck (and knot) a few palace omegas, including during ritual combat, via saddle, through use as a cocksleeve, and as public punishment.
Relationships: Absent-Minded Courtesan/Magical Lion, Ambitious Soldier/Magical Lion, Ambitious Soldier/Supportive Partner, Asshole Prince/Disgruntled Personal Guard, Asshole Prince/Magical Lion, Lion-Riding Courier/Magical Lion, Original Characters/Fantasy Lions
Series: SlyAnon's Monster Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927579
Comments: 38
Kudos: 295
Collections: Anonymous





	1. fight

**Author's Note:**

> so like. please do not fuck a lion. but also jsyk i'm exactly 0.000% liable if some weirdo makes national news for breaking into a zoo and getting mauled trying to mount a lion
> 
> anyways completely contrary to real world biology, these lions can purr and have human-level intelligence with no explanation. also they have aphrodisiac barbs on their very dull penile spikes and knots. my extremely valid reasoning is as follows: hornty
> 
> _This work may not be copied, altered, translated, or reposted without my explicit consent._

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Selene, an aspiring Centurion, wins (and also loses) a fight against Lyri the war lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna level with you: most of this chapter is exposition and fighting. but that's hot, right? fighting is hot?
> 
> … if you're here to "instant loss" this, the porn's like 3/5 of the way down and starts following the phrase "Lyri does nothing"

Of all of the tales spoken about the Kingdom of Iphidri, the Centurion’s Gambit is one of the most infamous.

Iphidri is known for many things. In the island republics to the south, Iphidri is known for its suffocatingly hot summers, icy winters, and glittering yet inhospitable mountains. The people say that the gods pulled Iphidrians from the land itself to perfectly counter the harsh, savage lands, with storytellers claiming witness to seeing Iphidrians calm storms and still earthquakes with their paintbrushes and songs.

The nomad nations of the east warn their children not to stray too far from their mobile cities, spinning tales about the countless monsters lurking in the gem-encrusted mountains that surround its land borders, the most famous of which are the Nimian Lions. These terrifying metal beasts, wrought from the mountains themselves, tower over even the tallest men and eat children who don’t eat all their vegetables—or so the story goes.

In the states of the west, the true monsters are the Iphidrians, or so it is claimed. The Iphidrians, with their obscene shows of pleasure and finery, are certainly immoral. Their rulers are despots and their people are visibly tainted by their sins, as is obvious by their appearances, which are varyingly sallow and either shamefully revealing or oppressively cloaked in clothing. Any respectable Westerner knows that these people are all as beastly as the monsters they ride atop, knowing nothing of civilized hierarchy.

To the northern cities, Iphidrians are nothing even remotely mystical. They are common trading partners, business rivals, loved ones, enemies, and ultimately, just other people located on the other side of the Iphi Sea. Certainly, they may have a few unfamiliar customs, but as long as the people of the north can continue to trade their textiles, lumber, and culinary treats to the people of the south, no northerner in their right mind would be rude enough to question said customs. At least, to an Iphidrian’s face.

One thing most can agree on, however, is that the Centurion’s Gambit is unthinkable. A match with the Iphidrian Royal Guard’s most successful war lions seems a brutal way to select the Guard’s top generals. And, as if a one-on-one fight with a _two-meters-tall metal lion_ wasn’t terrifying enough, to do so without armor for 3 hours with one of the smartest non-human beasts in the world … well, the Gambit seemed more like a death sentence than any real measure of worth.

To Iphidrians—and especially the members of the Royal Guard, it was not simply an honor, but a necessary choice.

After all, Iphidri’s Royal Guard _has_ to be the best part of their military. If their leaders are too cowardly or unconfident to willingly battle against their own war lions, they certainly couldn’t be trusted to lead their soldiers or risk precious lives on either side of the battle. Three hours with a lion, far beyond the average sparring time for Royal Guard members, is more than enough to scare away incompetent soldiers and wear down the brashest warriors—rather, to last that long without armor requires excellent strategy and technique.

It’s also a vital reminder of how vicious their war lions are. It's hard to be needlessly cruel to one’s battlefield opponents when you remember what your "assets" feel like when wielded against you.

And if a challenger lost… well, it isn’t like their war lions _always_ ate the losers. The Gambit isn’t about winning—Centurions are not winners, but _survivors._

Besides, the Gambit is much less intimidating than non-Iphidrians claim. For one, Nimian lions are not made of metal. They’re enormous and can get up to twice the size of any other kind of lion, yes, but their fur simply _appears_ metallic—without spells or armor, they’re no less impervious to any weapons than any other animal. And yes, Gambit hopefuls don’t wear armor nor enter with weapons, but they have an entire slew of weapons in the ring at their disposal. Tradition simply dictates that they enter the fighter’s ring unarmed, that they remain in the ring for the full three hours, and that they not fatally kill their opponent; anything else is fair game. Iphidrians do not simply toss ambitious soldiers into a ring to be eaten by lions. And of course, Nimian lions are incredibly intelligent, but that also means they have consciences, too.

… Probably. At least, there’s very few records of even the most brutal lions rampaging around and eating people.

These are truths that Selene has come to learn in the past seven years as a rising star of the Imperial Guards, and these are the truths she reminds herself of now as she prepares to battle a lion to become a full-fledged Centurion.

Selene is set to fight Lyri, an enormous lion with beautiful copper fur and a well-earned reputation for being the most vicious war lion in the capitol. Standing just under two meters tall, Lyri is the Imperial Guard’s second-largest Nimian lion.

Selene has met Lyri before; all soldiers must know and be known by their war lions. In fact, Selene knows Lyri as a companion, a fellow soldier, and even a friend, of sorts. Nimian lions are neither pets nor tools—their intelligence, their unique relationship with Iphidrians, and their sheer power makes Selene Lyri’s comrade of sorts, not master. It’s why Lyri, one of the lions Selene has trained with most, was selected as her opponent. She’s fed the beast, sparred with it, even fought alongside Lyri in a few border skirmishes, and so Lyri will be harder to beat.

Theoretically, this also means Lyri is less likely maul her, but it’s hard to take that theory as anything more than a hopeful hypothesis, particularly now, of all times.

“It’s quite cold in here,” Naya says, and Selene simply hums in agreement and squeezes their shoulder. “See? You're covered in goosebumps.”

It _is_ chilly in the room, especially as sparingly draped with translucent, pale purple bolts of cotton as Selene is now, but Selene knows that Naya is not trying to acknowledge Selene’s goose-flesh. Rather, it's an attempt to distract her from way the loud, terrified screams echoing in from the arena were cut off suddenly in a horrible _crunch,_ accompanied by an echoing chorus of dismayed cries.

“You’re going to be just fine, little moon,” Naya whispers.

“I am,” Selene tells them, and tries to believe it, but her hands are trembling even as her voice remains steady. Naya nods, their head bobbing quickly. They set their jaw and harden their expression.

“You are,” the alpha repeats. “In three hours, I’ll see you standing victorious in the arena, as our new leader.”

“I know, Naya.” Selene tries to force the brightest smile she can manage, but the visceral sound of flesh being ripped from bone has begun. “I think I’ll be next, soon. Why don’t you find a seat in the arena? I… I think it will be good to see your face in the crowd.”

“ … Yes. Yes, I… you’re quite right.” Naya rises to their feet, swaying slightly, and walks in a slow, careful line forward towards the two soldiers standing at the entrance to the room. “Lina? Sorrel?”

“Yes, Watcher.” The soldiers say unison, their eyes fixed firmly forward.

“I—” Naya releases a shaky breath. “Bearers, I must stand by the ring.”

There is a pause, and Lina nods. “I will lead the way.” She turns on her heel and strides out of the room. Naya hesitates for a fraction of a second and then walks stiffly after the other alpha, their back ramrod straight.

When the sound of footsteps fades down the hall, Sorrel sighs, running a hand over his face. “Orys is hungry today, it seems. I should have snuck the beasties an extra steak.”

“You know that’s against the rules.”

“Fuck the rules,” the beta snaps, then wilts. “Sorry. I know you must be scared, too. It’s just—that was _Davi_ out there.”

“ _Is,”_ Selene says stubbornly. “We don’t know if she’s dead. For all we know, she’s just knocked out.”

Sorrel lets out a harsh laugh. “Right. Like she wasn’t just ripped to shreds by a damned war lion. Do you want to go see for yourself? Maybe congratulate her for stealing a spot as Centurion before you? Or what’s left of her, anyway.”

“What do you want me to say, Sorrel?” Selene snaps. “You want me to be scared witless? You want me to go out there and fling my body over whatever’s left of her and beg for it all to stop? To dishonor her fight like that?”

Sorrel clicked his tongue, looking away. “You’re already a ranked officer. You don’t need to do this, as well. If you backed out now, you’d still have your titles. Why can’t you just quit while you’re ahead?”

For a moment, Selene almost considers it, but it’s not even a question. “… I know you’re scared for me. I’m scared for me, too. But I have to keep going,” Selene tells him. “It’s what a Centurion would do.”

It’s an honest answer. Becoming a Centurion has been Selene’s dream since she arrived in Iphidri as a child, and it’s kept her going through the past seven years of her training, pushing her to local fame as one of the most promising young fighters in her squadron.

It’s true, Selene is almost too frightened to stand right now, but Selene also can’t afford to let fear rule her, not when she’s so close to everything she’s ever dreamed of. She can’t allow herself to be distracted even before she enters the ring—not if she wants to last for three hours.

“ _I know._ I know, but. Are you certain?” Sorrel asks, reaching out one hand to grip his companion’s arm. “You know if you lose the match, you’ll—” Sorrel swallows audibly.

Selene barks out a laugh. “Do you doubt my skill?”

Sorrel huffs. “That’s not it. I—my friend, if you fail… we will lose the squadron’s best fighter. And … I will lose a dear companion.”

Selene’s expression softens. “I know, Sorrel. I promise you that I will be very careful.” She turns back to the room’s entrance at the sudden explosion of cheering. Davi, it seems, has at least survived to see another day.

_I’ll win, too._

* * *

The fighting arena is nearly fifty meters of hard-packed earth with a raised ring of stone surrounding it. It stands ten feet in the air with a few meters of space in between the raised fighting ring and the stadium. The lowered space, a moat, has more than a few stray water lilies drifting on the moat’s rippling surface. The moat is lined with stone tiles bearing the Iphidrian crest—two crossed palm fronds in a circle. Above the raised arena’s stone ring, endlessly rotating in a floating circle, are a wide selection of weapons, awaiting use. Past the moat surrounding the raised arena are the stadium seats, all stone and jutting like enormous steps. The quartz walls behind the seats, curling high overhead like the walls of a volcano’s summit crater, glint like ice in the bright summer sunlight, casting wave-like shadows on the people below.

The stadium packed, just as all Gambits tend to be. A cursory glance as she ascends the steps to the fighting ring tells Selene that every last seat is filled, and as she steps into the ring, the rumble of murmurs rockets into a roar, with soldiers, servants, tourists, and citizens alike filling the stands. A part of her wonders, distantly, if Naya had managed to squeeze their way in, but she can’t bring herself to look away from her opponent, who is already sitting on the far edge of the fighting arena.

Even after years spent training by the beast’s side, the sight of the beast is no less stunning and terrifying, even as a sense of familiarity and fondness burns deep in Selene’s chest.

On all fours, Lyri’s maned head is still several centimeters above Selene’s. There’s something almost comical about it’s glittering, slightly pinkish fur contrasted with its hulking appearance, thickly corded muscles bulging even through its pelt. Its tawny eyes stare at her, intelligent and unblinking, as she makes her way forward. As she approaches the center of the arena, she hears a low rumble—a purr, one that seems to echo through the earth itself and raise every hair on her legs. Somehow, this is more terrifying than a growl. Threats mean fear and unfamiliarity, a ploy to intimidate. Lyri knows Selene, and thus knows how she fights. Selene forces her steps not to falter.

In the center of the ring, she turns to her right and kneels to a balcony just above the ring filled with elder Centurions. Behind her, the gates close with a resounding thud, and she makes her way to the center of the arena, keeping her eyes fixed on the balcony.

One of the Centurions raises a hand. The crowd falls silent. “Challenger,” they call. “Do you maintain your claim to the Centurion’s Gambit?”

 _Last chance to back out._ Selene takes a deep breath, then throws her shoulders back. “Elder, I maintain it,” she calls.

The elder Centurion bows their head. “So says the Challenger. Watchers, witness this claim.”

The stadium erupts into cheers. From somewhere behind her, Selene can hear her unit screaming her name, along with words of encouragement as she returns to the far edge of the fighting ring.

Selene slinks into a crouch, keeping her eyes fixed forward. She does not raise her hand to call a weapon down from the slew of them rotating in the air; instead, she inches forward and diagonally.

The lion slinks to the side as it watches her, padding silently along the edge of the ring. Its bright copper fur gleams red in the sunlight, and Selene squints her eyes carefully, keeping her eyes just cracked open as the two circle each other on opposite sides of the arena. The amphitheater is silent, waiting with bated breath; not even a hot summer breeze shifts the flags lining the edge of the ring.

A gong is struck. The sounds echoing through the stadium. The Centurion calls, “Begin!”

The lion leaps forward with an eardrum-shattering roar, claws glinting like fire in the midday light. Selene throws herself forward without thinking, curling into a tumble and coming up on one knee, then sprinting away in as quick a zig-zag as she can. The lion slams into the spot she’d just been standing in and changes direction with a ferocious bellow. Selene doesn’t even start to look back as she runs.

The dance begins. Selene has no time to call a weapon down; instead, she’s dodging, flinging herself forward, just barely twirling out of the reach of Lyri’s claws, barely escaping every time.

The minutes pass like this, and as a panting Selene sweats through her flimsy ceremonial garb, it becomes clear: Lyri is playing with Selene, deliberately avoiding striking too hard, chasing after her but never fast enough to overtake her.

Selene accumulates scratches, scrapes, bruises, tears in her clothing, and the lion is untouched, almost gleeful as it pounces. It’s toying with her just enough to wear her stamina down slowly, until at the half-time mark, Selene seems too exhausted to continue the perilous dance. She stumbles near the edge of the ring, and the lion’s eyes glint. It leaps forward with coiled muscles, ready to strike—

Fast as a whip, Selene rolls smoothly out of the way, and The lion lands hard on the ring’s stone edge, loses its balance, and tumbles over the edge of the fighting ring with a startled chuff, paws swiping uselessly in the air. It lands in the moat with a great splash, sending water flying everywhere.

As it flails, Selene raises a quick hand to the sky, calling down weapon after weapon: a mace that she tosses to the other side of the ring, a sword in the center, javelins around the edges of the circle, a dagger that she stabs through her clothes and lets hang at her side.

The lion growls as it swims through the moat, and Selene hurries toward it, not even watching as she calls down a spear and grabs it from the air. As it reaches one of the stone steps leading up to the raised arena, she reaches the top of the stairs—never leaving the arena, but at an advantage from the high ground.

The lion prowls up the stairs, snarling, but Selene keeps it at bay with a yell. Suddenly, the tables have turned. The amphitheater roars in anticipation. If she can just manage to keep it trapped there for another hour and a half, she will win the match.

After nearly twenty minutes of trying to slip past Selene, the lion’s frustrated attempts to climb the stairs pull back. It dips back into the pull more than once, swimming around to try to take a different set of stone stairs up to the arena, even faking an attempt once to catch Selene off guard, but she catches it each time, forcing the lion to retreat—and because the beast is stuck swimming, its stamina is nearly always lower than Selene’s.

Finally, finally, with less than an hour to go, Selene is worn down enough that she’s just a few moments too slow. The lion is already halfway up the opposite steps when she reaches the top of them, and it meets her with a ferocious and frustrated blow, knocking her spear into the water.

Unblinking, Selene pulls the dagger from where it dangles in her ceremonial clothing. She swipes with it, reaches up towards the sky, calling down the last spear with all her might as she formulates a plan. She narrowly dodges a swipe, forced to release her dagger before its paw shatters her wrist.

Now she’s unarmed, but Selene doesn’t flinch, having given herself enough precious seconds to successfully call her last spear down. She’ll keep Lyri pinned here with the spear, run out the rest of the clock, and if that fails, she’ll—

The spear slams into her upper arm instead of seating smoothly in her hand, and Selene’s foot slips.

It’s a tiny error, but it’s too late to correct; the lion’s amber eyes flash as it lunges forward with a snarl, and Selene falls. Her bottom slams into the first stone step, tearing the thin cloth covering it and scraping the flesh. The spear goes careening into the moat with a devastating splash.

All the air is knocked from her lungs as she scrabbles at the hard-packed earth behind her, just barely on the edge of the ring. She tries to crab walk back up so she can flee to the other side of the arena, but the lion’s paws are already swiping down—in a fraction of a second, she flips onto her belly in a blind attempt to protect her vital spots.

Selene bites back a scream as sharp claws rend along the flesh of her abdomen, scraping over her rib cage and tearing the translucent purple cloth as the paws just barely fail to lock around her midsection. She forces herself not to quail as she flattens herself and tries to scuttle forward, just barely avoiding the enormous maw gnashing shut right where her neck had just been. The full force of the lion’s weight slams into her lower back, and Selene is shoved downwards, knocked breathless against the stone steps.

Lyri’s huge paws plant themselves right by her sides, trapping her wide-set hips. Selene gasps, struggling to pull air into her lungs, dizzy with the lack of oxygen, keeping her head low enough to the ground that she can dodge its open jaws at least once. She remains tense, her upper arms and knees propping her up as she regains her breath, trying to keep her head on and calculate what the beast will do, and…

Lyri does nothing.

Or rather, the lion doesn’t try to crush her head or tackle her. Rather, it stays put, simply snarling above her, loud enough to make her ears ring. Its snarl dies to a low, rumbling croon, and it shuffles awkwardly behind her. Selene has just enough awareness to recognize its legs scooting outside hers before something wet, hard, and enormous scrapes right above her ass.

Selene yelps, her face burning in humiliation as heat blooms from the spot the thing scraped, rolling through her body and settling firmly in her gut. “Oh, you _fucker,”_ she hisses at Lyri, who rumbles lowly again, snuffling at her gently.

She knows _exactly_ what Lyri is trying to do, because Lyri’s tried to do this before. Perhaps it’s their natural temperaments, their historically traditional closeness with humans, or even some strange evolutionary quirk. For whatever reason, Nimian lions are unusually _lewd._ It’s certainly not unheard of for Nimian lions to make _certain overtures_ towards other beasts, inanimate objects, and even humans.

If it was as harmless as a street dog humping, the behavior wouldn't ever be a problem. However, given their size and general lethal qualities, not to mention their unusually high stamina, they pose a moderate risk of irreversible knot-dumbness to any unfortunate humans they attempt to breed.

In general, Nimian lions have a nasty habit of getting far too touchy with all the palace members they work closely with, but especially so with the omegas in the palace. Omegas like Selene. None of them have ever _succeeded_ with Selene—one of the many things she’s famous for in her squadron—and it seems Lyri’s intent upon taking this chance to break that streak.

“Nngh—” Selene gasps as Lyri keeps grinding its cock against her, scraping the barbs along her exposed skin. She tries to raise herself higher, but the heat blossoming in her body makes her limbs feel numb and heavy. It feels like a damn arm, and a pit of fear starts to swell in Selene’s stomach. Deep down, she knows it’s too late—she can’t escape this time, not now that the damn lion’s venom-laced barbs have injected aphrodisiac into her flesh—but she clings to her dignity desperately. Around her, the crowd is murmuring. “Lyri, _get off—”_

Of course, the lion doesn’t listen. It simply rumbles louder, shuffling its hind legs. Lyri’s cock angles down and grinds into the valley of her ass, and Selene muffles another gasp, hips arching up unconsciously. The movement forces Lyri’s cock to grind up against her asshole, and Selene shudders as the barbed spikes on its cock slide over the pucker, her eyes rolling back as lightning arcs up her spine. Her cocklet twitches, leaking semen all over the hard-packed dirt.

Lyri keeps thrusting, grinding against her hole. Selene’s head falls as she whimpers, caught between seeking breath and holding everything in in an attempt to remain quiet. With each thrust, she can feel her cunt growing wetter, and she makes a humiliated noise when she hears her own slick splatter onto the ground. Her cunt is slick enough now to drench the lion’s shaft, her pussy folds swollen and puffy enough that the pointed head catches at the edge of her cunt lips. The lion purrs, and with another thrust, its cock catches.

Selene yelps, squirming as it pushes inside, but she’s stuck underneath Lyri’s oppressive weight, forced to take the cock as it slides in smoothly. “Hya—”

It’s huge. It knocks all the air out of her lungs and makes her cock jerk and dribble precum, and it’s not even fully in. She can feel her pussy trembling, rippling as it squeezes taut and full around the beast's girth. The tip jams against her cervix, and she gasps in pain or pleasure or maybe both.

Her head falls as she pants, and when she looks down at her own belly, she can see a visible bulge. She's so full, she swears its cock is in her throat. _“Fuck.”_

Lyri’s purrs grow louder. It grinds in firmly, humping its hips against the round curve of Selene’s ass, and she whines as the movement tugs its spikes around inside her. _The damn barbs,_ she thinks frantically, gasping as the feathery barbs trail along her walls, leaving burning paths as the lion’s cock saws in and out of her pussy.

“Nnnhh,” she whimpers, her eyes crossing. It’s hard to know how long it’s been thrusting, but with each thrust, it feels more and more like _forever._ Her pussy is … getting so _hot._ It’s burning, getting so _swollen_ and _twitchy_ and _slick,_ and now each thrust is accompanied by a nasty squelching.

 _Fight it,_ Selene thinks, even if she can’t quite remember what she’s supposed to be fighting against. With each thrust, it’s so hard to think of anything except the burning, tingling brush of the barbs inside her pussy, scraping along her g-spot and striking her cervix. She can’t really think, can barely hear the roar of the crowd, can’t quite tell if they’re jeering or yelling or even cheering. She thinks maybe she cums once, twice, maybe over and over; she can’t tell. Maybe she started cumming and never stopped. Her drooling cocklet seems to be proof enough of that.

She can feel her cervix growing hot and loose, enough for the lion’s cock to push just into it. There’s a brief, painful cramp that makes Selene cry out, and then the barbs scrape along the hard ring. The lion keeps pumping in, grinding hungrily as it finally bottoms out, and now it feels like the tip of its cock is kissing her cervix as it humps her.

“Haa, haa, haa, haahh—” Selene cums with her whole body this time, choked-off squeaks forced out with each roll of its hips. Above her, the lion purrs; it's too enormous to lap its sand-papery tongue over her skin to soothe her, so it croons instead, eyes becoming slits as it hunches its hips greedily and starts sawing in and out again.

Soon, there’s a swell at the base of the lion’s cock, and Selene has just enough presence of mind to laugh hysterically. That’s a knot. Lions don’t have knots. No normal lion has a knot. But of course, this lion _does,_ and it’s swelling, and _oh fuck Selene can’t think._

Selene’s whines are coming out high-pitched and frantic as the lion bottoms out, the pointed tip of its cock shoving right into the twitchy, needy ring of her cervix. As the knot balloons, the barbed spikes flare outward with it, locking the beast's cock.

One of the spikes pushes firmly against her g-spot, shoving the feathery barbs deep. “Nngwohh— _hhnnguh!”_ Selene squeals, toes curling and slick streaming out onto the ground as hot cum pours directly into her womb, splattering against her walls and forcing her belly to stretch just a little more.

Somehow, Selene thinks she hears a voice, low and soothing, yet loud enough to be heard over the roaring crowd. _That’s it, little moon,_ it says. Something in Selene stirs. She knows that voice. _You look so good on my cock._

 _Alpha,_ Selene thinks, and her eyes roll back in bliss as she keeps cumming, squirting from her cock and her cunt, pussy spasming as it sprays around the knot. Then it’s not squirt but urine spraying from her, splattering against the hard-packed dirt of the arena, and Selene is swallowed by a stadium of cheers. She can't stop cumming because of the knot, can't escape the dull spikes raking against her sweet spot or the heady rush of aphrodisiac in her veins, and each time the lion grinds in with a purr, she can feel her head getting a little emptier.

 _But—wait,_ a little voice whispers. _You don’t have an alpha._

Selene stirs from where she's drooped beneath the lion, hanging limply on its knot as it purrs. It’s hard—it’s so hard to think, but the longer she fixates on this realization, the harder she clings to it and every coherent thought that comes with it.

_I don’t have an alpha. I’m fighting a war lion. My name is Selene. I’m going to lead the Royal Guard. I will survive the Centurion’s Gambit._

Finally, Selene has enough awareness to see again, albeit blurred. She wriggles weakly, whimpering as Lyri purrs and presses its knot in harder. There’s a glint that catches her eye, and she reaches for it. Her heart leaps as her fingers sting—a blade.

With the last bit of desperate strength she has, she swings the dagger upward into the warm body above her and lodges it there solidly. There’s a deafening roar, one that makes her body clench up and spasm on the knot, and then the lion rears up with a series of furious roars, chuffing in pain as it thrashes.

Selene yelps as she’s tugged right along with it, too weak to pull herself off the knot or shield herself, but she’s too small and too close to be hit by any of Lyri’s enraged swipes. Instead, the two are knocked off balance, and with a jarring crash, Lyri hits the ground, still tied to a whimpering Selene.

As the lion writhes, Selene wriggles, terror sending crackling energy to her body as she struggles to avoid being crushed by the lion’s writhing body. Selene tugs herself backward as she tries to pull herself off the lion’s cock, yelping as she forces herself through another orgasm and then another until its cock deflates just enough for her to rip herself off just as the gong sounds.

Selene crumples, blinded by a final orgasm. When the pounding blood in her ears dies down enough for her to hear, she finally comprehends the deafening cheers of the stadium audience, chanting her name.

 _I won the Gambit,_ she thinks, and manages a tiny, tired smile before peacefully blacking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> selene: "can someone make lyri be quiet? damn cat won't stop meowing at me"
> 
> lyri @ selene, probably: "you have the right to remain s e x y. anything you say can and will make me B U S T A N U T"
> 
> (lmao it's CATCALLING. get it? get it??)


	2. guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rini the shy Beastmaster has a rough first day on the job dealing with their difficult coworker, Heli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know the saddle part's weird and the physics are probably a lil wonky. hear me out: dude trust me

During the discernment process, Rini probably should have questioned why the older Guide hesitated when they learned Rini was an omega.

In their defense, it’s never mattered before. Life for omegas in Iphidri is nothing like it was in the West, and there are other, far more pressing issues. For example, omegas come in all shapes and sizes, but Rini stands at almost exactly 155 centimeters. Put simply, Rini is _tiny,_ especially for a Beastmaster. Furthermore, while Rini’s well-known for their astounding skill with animals, they’re also notorious for being terrible with _human_ communication, mostly due to their extreme shyness; of all the Beastmasters in the capitol, they’re one of the least qualified to act as a messenger. And lastly, given the enormous claw marks running down their right shoulder and forearm, Rini’s very obviously negative history with regular lions should give the Lion Guides more pause about hiring Rini than the fact that their cycle makes them go through undergarments a little faster.

Of course, even if they _had_ picked up on it, Rini wasn’t about to go interrogating the leader of Lion’s Guide for answers. Rini needs this job. It’s not that they aren't comfortable as a private Beastmaster in Iphidri’s capitol city, but no other Beastmaster-related job pays so exorbitantly, and their great-aunt living in the West needs help paying her bills. So when the leader of the Guides came to their old workplace on recommendation from some of their fellow Beastmasters, they’d jumped on the opportunity with as much assertiveness as they could muster.

And, well, Rini was too nervous to say anything more than “no, I’m fine” when prompted for questions, anyways. But they’re sure they’ll be fine. After all, Rini didn’t have a _single_ panic attack around any of the Nimian lions lounging around the Guides’ communications center. Also, they only spent half an hour screeching internally at themselves for being awkward during the interview. Those are _huge_ improvements.

When they walk out of the interview room and into the main hall of the communications center, there’s an enormous copper lion stretched out on the floor. It’s over twice Rini’s size. Rini hesitates before taking a cautious step forward.

_These aren’t like normal lions. They’re better, right? Less aggressive and much smarter._

The lion turns its gaze towards them but doesn’t move, letting Rini approach. As Rini seats themselves near its head, the lion rolls into a more upright position and sniffs at Rini before exhaling with a huff and bowing its head.

“Y-you’re pretty f-friendly, huh,” Rini asks, managing a quiet laugh as they lower a careful hand and brush it through the lion’s vibrant copper mane. The lion closes its eyes lazily with a deep, pleased rumble. Rini lets out a quiet _oof_ as the lion drops its heavy head into their lap, stretching and yawning as Rini continues their petting.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

* * *

Rini manages to cling to that uncharacteristic confidence high all the way until they find themselves knocked flat on their face in front of the entrance to the Guides’ communication center.

 _“Heli!”_ a distressed voice calls from behind them. Rini winces, pushing themselves up into a sitting position, and nearly yelps when they turn and find themselves face-to-face with a rumbling lion with luminous bronze fur. To their credit, they freeze rather than scrambling backwards with a scream like their first instinct called for.

A Guide hurries forward to yank at the lion's mane. “Heli, you damn brat,” the Guide huffs, flicking the lion’s ear. It continues staring at Rini. The guide hold out a hand to Rini, who blinks rapidly and takes the Guide’s hand. “I’m so sorry about that. This beastie is usually much more well-behaved. Are you the new Guide?”

“Oh. Um, yes,” Rini mumbles.

“It’s wonderful to meet you! I’m Kira. Rini, right? I’ll be taking you on a tour of the palace today so you can get acquainted with the courier routes. Why don’t we— _damn it, Heli!”_

“It’s fine,” Rini wheezes, horizontal for the second time, this time with a loudly purring lion snuffling their face.

Kira pulls on the lion's scruff, forcing the lion off Rini’s still-breathless form. It flops onto its side lazily. _“_ _Back,_ you mangy ball of fur. Really, I am so sorry. I swear, most of the time, Heli’s one of the most mild-mannered cats we have.”

Rini hauls themselves to their feet, wincing. “I-it’s fine,” they repeat. “I’m a face—um, a new face here. I’m sure I’m v-very exciting.”

“Don’t worry,” Kira says placatingly. “I heard you don’t have much experience with Nimian Lions, so we chose our smallest lion for the day. It’ll be a bit of a ride around the palace, but it should be more comfortable for you than a bigger one today.”

Rini shifts uncomfortably, glancing up at the enormous beast sprawled beside them. ‘Small’ seems… a poor word choice. Even if it’s visibly smaller than the copper lion they befriended before, it’s clear that the animal will be taller than Rini when standing.

Kira claps their hands. “Anyways, we should get going! You got measured for one, right? Why don’t we go get you your saddle and I’ll show you how to use it? Heli, _come.”_

“S-sure,” Rini mumbles. As they walk away, Rini glances back at Heli, who’s trailing lazily after them. As Rini meets the beast’s gaze, its tail swishes. Rini quickens their footsteps after the other Guide.

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kira groans. “That’s a joke, right? You’re joking me.”

“No,” the palace leatherworker sighs. “I’m not, unfortunately. The saddle you commissioned was indeed stolen and ruined by one of the palace courtesans-in-training.”

“Urgh.” Kira pinches the bridge of their nose. “What would they even need a _saddle_ for? I swear, those trainees have no respect for this guild—”

The leatherworker clears her throat. “Anyways, we do have some older saddles in storage. They’re the wrong size, but for a newbie—”

“Say no more,” the Guide says firmly. “We’ll take the smallest one you have.”

“O-oh. If it’s troublesome, I, um, can ride bareback,” Rini offers, trying to sidle away from a purring Heli. “Um, I’m used to—”

“No!” Kira shouts, and Rini squeaks. “I mean—sorry. I didn’t mean to spook you. But please. You have to use the saddle. Here, I’ll show you how to do it properly.”

“O-okay,” Rini mumbles, clutching at the saddle. They glance at the bronze lion beside them, who just brushes against Rini’s side with a rumble and almost knocks them over again.

Saddling a Nimian lion is, surprisingly, about as easy as saddling a horse or camel. Which is to say—harder than it looks, especially when the lion won’t cooperate. Luckily, after Kira’s third stern talking-to, Heli finally stays still long enough to be saddled.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Kira pants, wiping the sweat from their brow.

“Heli seems fend—uh, very f-friendly,” Rini manages, scooching backward as the lion inches towards them.

Kira snorts. “Normally, Heli’s very polite. But even Nimian lions are still cats, mind you. And like all cats, they’re assholes. _Oof!_ _”_

Rini flounders as Heli snuffles atop Kira, who shoves at the beast’s glittering muzzle furiously.

“Why are you acting like a damned hound today, you brat?” Kira snaps at the lion. Heli flicks its tail. “If you don’t watch it, I’m choosing a different beastie for the tour.”

Without hesitation, the lion moves back and arches its back, stretching as best it can with the saddle attached. It’s a lovely creation even if it’s visibly very old, Rini thinks. The seat is sleek and functional, all rich brown leather with lovely patterns etched into the leather at the front and along the sides of the seat. The pommel has a small, angular, and knob-like saddle horn attached. When Kira helps Rini into it, they find saddle is a little bigger than expected, but not uncomfortably so.

“Right!” Kira claps their hands. “Why don’t we get another beastie saddled up for me, and we can get started?”

The other lion, Kova, has glowing silver fur and towers over Rini. Suddenly, they understand how Heli is a “small” lion—this beast is half a meter taller than Rini on all fours. Kova is far calmer than Heli, standing stock-still and watching Rini with a level gaze. Kira has to jump to reach the stirrups and use them to swing their other leg over.

“Right! Are we ready to go?” Kira calls. “Why don’t we take it slow at first, so you can get accustomed to it?”

Rini bobs their head, and holds in a squeak as the pair starts moving.

The palace, huge as it is, takes a few hours to traverse even when riding enormous lions. The lions’ gaits aren’t quite as smooth as a camel’s or horse’s, but their padded paws don’t clatter on the floor, and they’re intelligent enough to follow complex directions (even if they don’t always do so). By the time they loop back around to the communications center to rest the lions and go over more expectations.

“I have to run some errands, so I won’t be able to take you a second time. Do you feel ready to try the route yourself?” Kira asks Rini, who nods shyly. “If you get lost, just ask anyone for help! The other workers should at least know the general direction, and Heli’s smart enough to keep you on track.”

With that, Kira directs Kova out of the gateway to the center and disappears. Rini takes a deep breath before turning to the bronze lion sprawled on the floor. “Okay, Heli. T-take me on the routes again? Eek!”

Rini finds themselves horizontal again, struggling to draw in a breath as the lion bats at their long flowy pants, back arched playfully. They scoot backwards hurriedly, wincing as the gesture makes their pants tear, splitting cleanly along their inner thighs and leaving their lower half exposed except for the thin strip of their undergarments. “Oh, _no.”_

“Is there a problem?” one of the guards at the desk calls out. Rini stiffens.

“N-not at all! I-I’ll get going now!” Rini scrambles to their feet. Heli straightens as well, flicking its tail playfully. Cringing, Rini leaps into the saddle as smoothly as they can muster.

“Sir—”

But Rini is already hurrying away, clutching the lion’s mane and burying their face into the fur in humiliation as the lion sprints out of the hall. When they find themselves in an unknown corridor several minutes later, Rini finally raises their head, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Urgh.” They shift, wrinkling their nose. The tear in their pants leaves their legs and entire crotch bare. The soft inner skin of their thighs isn’t irritated yet, but if Rini doesn’t find some new pants soon, their legs will surely be rubbed raw. Plus… Rini winces. Unintentional as it is, the thin strip of their underwear does little to provide a real barrier between their crotch and the warm, smooth leather saddle. Rini shifts uncomfortably. In fact, the upward curve of the saddle and its pommel are curved just so that—

Rini stiffens as Heli starts rumbling. The vibrations flow all the way through its body and up into the saddle, right up against Rini’s cock and clit. “Oogh.”

The new Guide shakes their head. _Now isn’t the time to be distracted,_ they chide themselves. First, they need to find pants. They hadn’t moved into their new palace living quarters yet, and leaving the palace to go to their old apartment was out of the question. Last they recalled, their friend Davi had been promoted to Centurion, which means they live in the barracks. If they could just borrow a pair for the day…

“C-could you take me to the b-barracks?” Rini asks, and Heli started trotting forward, still purring.

As they walk, Rini shifts again and again, trying to find a better position on the saddle. Sitting on the saddle normally pushes their pussy right up against the leather. Leaning forward with their hips tilted forces their cock to grind right up against the curve of the pommel. Leaning back is too dangerous. Finally, with an embarrassingly puffy pussy, a swollen clit, and a half-hard cock, Rini tries hunching on the stirrups.

It works, for a time, even if their thighs start burning from holding them up for so long. Rini’s unfortunate erection has just about died down when Heli decides to jump down the next ramp instead of walking down. Rini gasps and scrabbles for the saddle horn as their feet slip. With a snap, the one of the stirrups snaps off and clatters to the ground, slamming them down onto the saddle. Around them, a few servants startle, but Heli is already bounding off. Rini struggles for purchase, but the remaining stirrup is caught around their ankle and they have to grasp at the saddle horn to avoid tumbling backwards in a nasty fall.

Finally, the lion slows again. Now, Rini has absolutely no idea where they are—the halls are practically empty, and the longer Heli walks, the fewer people are around.

Rini squirms as Heli starts purring again. Their pussy is smushed against the saddle and the beast’s sloping walk forces their cunt to grind against the saddle from side to side. Rini’s clit twitches, and they cringe.

“O-okay, let’s just get to the barracks,” Rini mumbles to themselves. “I just need to make it there.”

‘Making it there’ proves to be much harder than Rini initially thought. For one, the journey to the barracks is absurdly long, to the point that Rini swears they’re going in circles. The entire time, the lion won’t stop purring, sending rolling vibrations through the saddle that make Rini struggle not to moan. The saddle is humiliatingly wet now; the leather is soaked and warm with their slick and precum, making the slide even smoother and hotter. By now, their panties are soaked through, the thin strip of cloth digging into their slick, swollen folds. Rini can feel the erect bud of their clit twitch each time the lion’s movements force the strip of cloth to rub cruelly against it.

“H-Heli—” Rini says shakily. “Heli, please, I need to—y-you have to stop, I—”

They give a dismayed cry as their whole body curls inwards, stiffening and trembling as they orgasm. Cum spurts from their cock, splattering onto the pommel and hitting the saddle horn, and they gasp, squirming as slick drenches their inner thighs. There’s no way they can find purchase, now—the saddle horn keeps slipping out of their grip and the saddle seat is drenched.

Rini gasps for breath, but the lion won’t stop rumbling and it makes them writhe, unable to come down from the high. They try to yank their leg out of the stirrup, but it’s too deeply caught and they’ve lost the strength to tug it out.

“N-no,” Rini whimpers, thrashing. Already, they can feel their next orgasm building. “No no no no—”

Heli purrs louder, and Rini squeaks, tongue poking out of their open mouth as they cum again.

They’re forced through another orgasm and then another as the lion walks, purring so loudly it makes Rini’s entire body tremble. By their fifth, Rini is slumped forward, twitching and whining as they walk. By now, it’s clear that Heli is not taking Rini to the barracks, but the lion is moving too quickly and their legs are too numb for them to safely dismount.

A door slides open, and Rini’s heart leaps. They just catch sight of a wide-eyed courtesan. Before they can even open their mouth, the courtesan yelps and slams the door shut.

Rini’s stomach drops. _No._ Are all other workers so scared of the lions? Will no one want to even help them dismount?

They start struggling again, but their thighs are burning in exhaustion and the saddle horn is too slick for them to get a solid grip on. “Please,” they rasp. “Heli, I n-need you to—”

Heli springs forward and the second stirrup snaps. Rini flies up and out of the saddle with a gasp, all the air freezing in their lungs as they scrabble for the knob-like saddle horn—and miss, sailing over it. In a panic, the grab at Heli’s fur and tug hard, stifling a screech as they nearly tumble headfirst over the lion. Their bottom comes back down on Heli hard, and Rini yelps as they land on the front of the saddle, the horn digging—

Rini gasps in pain, squirming as they try to reseat themselves. The curved top of the knob has come to dig right up against their clit, pressing hard against the underside of their cocklet. They try to scoot backwards, to slide back down to the embarrassingly slick curve of the saddle, but—

(But Heli isn’t having that.)

Heli jolts forward again with a pleased chuff, and Rini’s cry cuts off in a choked whine. In any other situation, it would be impossible, but with their underwear worn and soaked from the friction and their pussy already slick from a few orgasms from the low, rumbling purr of the lion beneath them…

It’s too easy. The huge knob-like horn presses hard against their cunt. Their panties dig hard into their folds before snapping. Rini’s drenched pussy struggles for a fraction of a second and then stretches wide around the horn. Their own weight forces them to sink down on the knob, and then their hole trembles and gives up. Rini squeals as the knob pops into their cunt, just like a knot, pressing right up against their g-spot. They cum instantly, an omegan chirp forced from their lungs as their pussy gets knotted by a saddle horn, the forward-facing bulb forced right against their sweet spot.

Rini gasps for breath, struggling to rise off the horn and get back on the saddle, but Heli starts padding forward again, bobbing just slightly. The huge knob fucks into their hole, grinding along their walls and forcing Rini to seat themselves on the horn with a sharp cry.

This is bad. This is really, really bad. Rini knows that with this knob-like horn, their brain will be tricked into thinking Rini’s been knotted. If they don’t get off it now, they’ll go knot-dumb for as long as they’re stuck, and if they’re knot-dumb for too long…

In desperation, they try to slide sideways out of the saddle, but they can't lift themselves off the knob; all that does is make the saddlehorn grind firmly against their walls. Their pussy tightens up around the horn's girth. “H-help,” they rasp. “Someone—plea—”

Of course, the halls are still nearly empty, and no one hears them. “Hnnghh,” Rini manages. Their trembling arms weaken, and they sink forward until their upper half is curled against the lion’s proudly arched head. Heli begins purring again, and Rini’s entire body stiffens as they cum again, slick gushing from their pussy, seeping down the saddle and dampening Heli’s fur. “Nwoh—it’sh—big—knot—”

Rini tries to focus, but Heli is trotting now, forcing the knob to grind and fuck Rini’s poor hole a little faster. Little _unh_ s are forced out as Heli trots forward, and as Rini’s pussy hiccups around the knob grinding cruelly against their sweet spot, it gets harder and harder to think and make sense of their surroundings.

There’s a commotion behind the pair, and suddenly Heli is practically galloping. They hear voices and see surprised and panicked faces, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember why that’s important. Rini’s barely cognizant enough to realize they’re being chased, and then that realization fades as the lion’s entire body starts rumbling even louder. Rini’s head lolls, their eyes rolling back as their mouth opens and their tongue pokes out. After the vibrations from Heli’s purring, they were were already close, but now—now, with their clit and cocklet pushed up against Heli’s shiny bronze coat, soft fur grinding against the sensitive tips—they can’t stop cumming.

“Nnghuhh… hihh … ” With each orgasm forced out by the knob, their head feels a little fuzzier, a little emptier, until they’re actively meeting the knob’s mini thrusts, rolling their hips forward and grinding their twitching cocklet against fur as Heli’s shoulders rise and dip. They keep grinding down even when Heli finally comes to a stop, its tail flicking in irritation.

“… right, you brat, there’s nowhere else to run,” someone says. They’re cornered now, surrounded by half a dozen guards, all wielding a variety of vicious-looking weapons. “Let the newbie down nice and easy and I won’t have to sedate you.”

Rini can’t comprehend any of it. All they can understand is the big knot filling up their pussy and the soft, tickly furs rubbing all over their clitty and the rumbling that milks their cock and it won’t stop spurting. It feels good, it feels so good, and they grind down with a happy burble as their pussy wobbles and twitches around the knob, their thighs twitching and squeezing the saddle.

With a particularly loud, rumbling purr, the lion pops up and dips forward suddenly, arching its back like a house cat. Rini squeals as the sudden movement forces them to slam all their weight onto the knob. They arch back as they squirt, legs spasming as the lion’s rolling purrs force each wave of slick out of their pussy, cock twitching as it spurts in one long stream before jerking, now dry.

Warm hands tug them up and pop them off the nice knot in their pussy, and Rini whimpers, slick gushing from their ruined, puffy little hole as it clenches around nothing. Something warm covers their still-incoherent form, and they lean against the solid weight keeping them steady.

The voice from before sounds frustrated even as it fades into the distance, but all Rini can focus on is how empty they are. When the solid weight rumbles, Rini whines, their swollen cocklet twitching as if remembering the nice vibrations that milked it dry. They manage a weak, needy chirp before going fully limp.

* * *

“You’re sure you’re fine to shut down day services?” Kira asks, tossing their saddle over a rest.

Rini nods. “I-I can do it,” they insist. “I’ll b-be okay.”

“If you insist…” Kira hums thoughtfully. “You know, I really admire you for returning, you know that? I don’t know what I’d do if I got harassed by a beastie like you did.”

The new Guide laughs softly, hunching over shyly. “I-it’s nothing. I-I felt ready.”

Kira pats their shoulder. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know, okay? I’m here for you.”

Rini watches their fellow Guide leave and sighs. It’s been a few months since the catastrophe that left Rini on bedrest for a full day and their work postponed indefinitely. A few therapy sessions later, they were finally cleared to return and start work, albeit with reduced hours and a guild-wide ban on allowing contact between Rini and a certain bronze lion. Today was the first day they’d been cleared to work until night—which, to Rini’s excitement, meant more money they could send to their great-aunt. It seemed that that unfortunate event was finally behind them.

Well… mostly. Since that night, the new Guide finds they’ve developed some interesting proclivities.

Half an hour later, Rini enters the saddle room finished with closing, stretching with a quiet grunt. It’s quiet in the center, now—with no one but emergency communications left to come relieve Rini in about half an hour, they’re alone in the center.

They glance down at the saddle in their arms, then look back up and swallow. There’s no one around. It’s a wild idea. Very inappropriate. They shouldn’t even be considering it.

But maybe… just for a little bit…

With an embarrassed hum, Rini sets the saddle on the ground. After a moment’s hesitation, they wriggle out of their pants, tug off their panties, and sit down on the saddle, eyes fluttering closed as they roll their hips forward. It feels good. They can feel their cocklet stiffening, pussy starting to grow puffy as they grind against the leather.

When they feel the leather start to grow slick, they sigh and pull off. It’d be bad if they ruined the saddle, and humiliating if anyone noticed. Maybe they should ask that leatherworker to—

Finally, too late, Rini notices a low rumble from behind them, and they whirl around with a yelp. There, somehow escaped from the lions' nighttime enclosures, is Heli, coiled and ready to pounce.

Rini shrieks and stumbles backwards as the beast leaps forward with a pleased huff, knocking Rini back. The lion slots itself firmly over the screeching Guide, keeping their legs forced apart as it hunches forward. Rini cries out as its cock rolls right over their damp pussy once, twice, three times, barbs brushing over the swollen flesh of their cunt and making it _burn._

When the lion slides home, Rini squirts instantly with a squeal, their little hole straining and twitching around the lion’s girth. As it fucks in, their eyes roll back, and they roll their hips in time with its thrusts, chirping. _Alpha, Alpha._ Heli responds with a happy chuff and keeps hunching its hips, pumping in greedily.

Rini cums on the beast’s enormous, pointed cock once, twice, thrice before it even starts to knot, burbling dumbly, legs splayed as they arch into the lion's thrusts. There’s a pool forming on their tummy and beneath their hips, all slick and cum and maybe a little piss. The lion responds to their clumsy calls with a pleased croon, shifting its hips and plunging in harder as a swell starts to form at the base of its cock.

“Hey, Rini, I think I left my spare—Gods almighty! _Damn it, Heli!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rini: "maybe this won't be so bad"  
> narrator: "it was bad"


	3. patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Junior Courtesan Rhododendron makes a plan that maybe isn't as flawless as they originally thought, and Kova gets a brand new toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rho, literally hanging upside down on a big ass magical lion and stuck to a stolen saddle: *record scratch* "yep. that's me. you're probably wondering how i ended up in this situation. well, it all started..."

The sun has just set when the evening guards begin their switch with the night guards. There's a quiet buzz of excitement; tonight is the first night of the Hydrangea Festival.

The annual parade is set to take place in two hours along the outer canals; then, local performing sorcerers will cast hundreds of thousands of glowing colorful bubbles beside the thousand-year-old hydrangeas that line the canals. There, festival-goers will spend the rest of the night with bands playing dancing songs from all over the world while the festival market features honey-sweet pink liquor, dense balls of fried dough topped with pastel-colored powdered sugar, crunchy battered canal fish slices, and spicy Moresian duck wings.

Although the festival isn’t nearly as popular with tourists as the Fire Drake Festival in the fall, it’s one of Rho’s favorite festivals. Tonight, however, they won’t be attending and are not preparing as they normally would. Instead, they’re curled in a ball inside Guard Tower 32B’s Lost and Found, waiting for the human-heavy outer guards to switch to the more nocturnally-equipped, lion-heavy outer guards.

Rho has a secret lion-riding plan, AKA Rho’s Secret Plan to Ride a Lion During the Hydrangea Festival (R.S.P.L.D.H.F. for short), and it's a genius plan, if they do say so themselves. Because tonight is a festival night, the palace guards will be relegated to supporting the local neighborhood guards. This year, they've been asked to serve exclusively as escorts to and from the residential areas of the city. The shift means that tonight, there will be fewer guards stationed in the palace itself, including the human and lion guards patrolling the outer palace walls. That gives Rho the opportunity of a lifetime: riding a Nimian lion around, becoming super-best-friends with it, and then teaming up with said lion to strut around the festival together.

Right now, Phase Four of R.S.P.L.D.H.F. is going perfectly. The diversion they’d created a few hours ago (which involved two gallons of glue they’d swiped from the palace artists, an armful of their silk rope, an unsuspecting guard, and a particularly large and carnivorous canal fish) had given them a window of opportunity to slip right into the tower and stuff themselves into the Lost and Found bin. They’d only almost been caught twice—once when the guard monitoring the Lost and Found bin had heard them munching on a particularly stale tea biscuit, and once when a particularly huffy older man had come in demanding the entire bin be dug through so he could obtain a coat he lost five years ago.

In about ten minutes, the guard switch will end, and the portion of wall between Tower 32B and the next tower will be staffed by a single lion: the largest of the lion guards, Kova, a rare silver lion known for being a gentle giant. Kova will be Rho’s target and super-best-friend by the end of the night, Rho is sure of it. And if Kova isn’t as friendly as they anticipate, Rho’s probably quick enough to jump into the palace canal to avoid the claws.

When the guards finally finish their debriefing and shuffle out to the palace walls, Rho starts shifting, keeping an ear out as they smooth out their lovely, floaty cotton dress. Rho has no idea what’s best for lion riding, but they’re sure it’s not too important—after all, this is Rho’s cutest festival outfit, and when they befriend Kova and ride them around the city, they want to look their best.

When the coast is clear, Rho hops out of the bin with an excited giggle. They turn back, dig through the bin, and pull out the saddle that they’d swiped from the leather-workers yesterday. Along with it, Rho grabs their silk ties in case the courtesan needs them to help saddle the lion. It was a risky move, stealing the saddle, but it’s beautiful and comes with the added bonus of screwing with the Guides.

Stupid lion couriers. Rho doesn’t understand why they get paid so much—it’s not like riding a lion is that hard. Rho’s never actually ridden a Nimian lion before, but just watching those pompous assholes makes it clear that it’s very easy to ride a lion. They have no right to be so uppity around the courtesans, acting like the Guides are too _important_ to deliver the diplomatic packages that the Palace Courtesan Guild sends.

Besides, this saddle looks like it was made for Rho: it’s got gorgeous etched designs in the letter, it’s brand-new, and it looks like it’s just Rho’s size. It’s like the Guides were _asking_ to be robbed.

With the saddle and ties under their arm, Rho sneaks out of the tower and peeks out of the doors to the wall’s sloping parapet walk. It should be difficult to be spotted; the parapets are covered, with connected onion domes acting as roofs and thick stone walls with evenly spaced, arched windows to watch from. In the center of the parapet walk stretch are two lit braziers embedded in the archways, lighting up the parapet walks in full view of the adjacent patrol positions and a nearby watch tower.

There, prowling along the walkway with its back to Rho, is Kova. The lion’s fur is beautiful in the moonlight, reflecting a dazzling, almost glittering white as it pads silently across the walkway. Even from a distance, it’s clear Kova is enormous. As Rho watches, Kova reaches the middle of the walkway and stops. It raises on its hind paws and places its front paws on the column. Kova's head briefly blocks the view of the flames for just a moment—a signal.

When Rho sticks their head out a little further, heart pounding, the lion’s ears flick, and Kova’s head turns, its yellow eyes locking with Rho's instantly. The courtesan’s heartbeat surges, thundering in their ears, as the lion turns slowly, its eyes still locked on them. They drop the saddle with a quiet gasp. For a moment, the courtesan forgets what they came for; all they can think about is that they have to run, have to flee and never look back, but they can’t will their body to move a muscle.

Rho’s stomach tightens into knots when Kova returns to all fours and starts walking towards them. The lion makes its way back towards the guard tower, still watching Rho, until finally the beast comes to a stop in front of the tower door, ears flicking, and leans forward. The courtesan stiffens painfully as the lion sniffs Rho curiously and then exhales, pulling back with a tail flick. The beast’s ears flick once, then twice, and then the lion lowers its head and nudges at the door Rho is half-hidden behind, jostling it slightly.

Rho almost screams, just barely covering their mouth in time. The lion huffs impatiently, then leans forward and gently pushes its enormous pink nose against the hand covering their mouth.

“O-oh,” Rho wheezes, letting out a hysterical giggle. They lift a hesitant hand and place it on the lion’s head. Kova arches into the touch, rumbling, and Rho giggles again, shoulders loosening as they use both hands to scratch behind the enormous lion’s ears.

“See, I knew you and I would be super-best-friends immediately,” they declare. “Let’s get that saddle and—hey!”

But Kova is already turning back to its patrol, disinterested now that Rho’s stopped their petting. Rho scrambles for the saddle and their ties and hurries after the lion.

It takes a significant amount of running and several patrols along the walkway before Rho catches up with the lion, trying to match the wide stride of its paws. “Wait,” they huff. “Wait, I wanna—the saddle— _oof.”_

Rho smacks into the lion as they stop in front of the brazier once more. They fall backwards. The lion doesn’t even glance their way as it raises on its paws in front of the brazier once more; the only hint that the lion’s even noticed their presence is the slight flick of its ears when they hit the ground with a _thud._

“Okay, last resort,” Rho huffs, reaching into their pocket and pulling out a sealed bag with a few pieces of raw meat in them. “Okay, Kova, let’s— _ack!”_

Rho scoots out of the way as Kova tears at the unopened bag, clawing at it. The courtesan inches to the side before getting to their feet and raising the saddle with a determined harrumph.

The lion doesn’t even acknowledge Rho as they slip the saddle over its midsection, too focused on squeezing the raw meat chunks from the hole it ripped in the bag. It takes a few tries and a few silk ties, but Rho finally manages to connect the leather straps to their corresponding buckles. Kova makes an annoyed chuffing noise as Rho yanks on the straps, trying to get them to tighten.

(Rho doesn’t notice, but the lion’s abdomen swells as it holds its breath.)

Finally, Rho gets the saddle as securely tight as they can manage. “And it didn’t even take me that long!” they declare. Now they get to ride a beautiful silver lion.

Or, well. Rho hesitates. When they look at their work, it seems wrong, somehow. The saddle looks like it’s a little too far back.

The courtesan shakes themselves. Nope, they did just fine. All that matters is that no one else at the festival notices it’s not perfect. Right?

Finally done with the meat, Kova straightens. It stands still, as if waiting. With a triumphant cry, Rho launches themselves forward. Despite Kova’s courteous stillness, it takes the courtesan a bit of flailing, but they manage to haul themselves into the saddle, raising a fist with a weak cheer.

“Got … got it.” Rho rearranges their mussed hair, smoothing out the wrinkles in their dress. They’ve done it. They successfully befriended and saddled a lion. Now all that’s left is to unlock their natural lion-riding skills and take Kova to the festival. They should still have an hour before the parade starts, which is more than enough time to get to the festival. Then they can enjoy the rest of the festival attractions where the guards are less focused (and thus less likely to catch them.)

But first…

Rho thinks for a moment. Kova, ever the polite war lion, still hasn’t moved. Of course, it’s probably patiently waiting for Rho to suggest going someplace, but it’s clear the lion’s a fast beast simply due to its enormous strides. And they don’t want to fall off, right? That would be embarrassing.

An idea pops into Rho’s head. If they tie themselves to the saddle, which is of course perfectly tied to the lion, they won’t ever fall off! And if they just tie their feet to these nifty footholds and tie their hands to that knob thing at the front of the saddle, they can still untie themselves to wave at awed festival-goers and gracefully dismount if needed.

 _What a great idea,_ Rho tells themselves proudly, and proceeds to use their remaining silk ties to wrap comfortably around their wrists and feet. Satisfied, Rho tests the ties. Their feet are locked tight in the stirrups and the silk ties that link their wrists to the saddle don’t come undone no matter how much they tug, but they aren’t so tight that they’d cut off Rho’s circulation for any reason. The ties do make them lean forward quite a bit, but Rho's sure they still look majestic.

“There,” they say proudly. “All locked in, safe and snug!”

Kova lets out a strange huff. Rho’s excited hoot shifts to a startled yelp as the saddle, suddenly looser, slides sideways, and suddenly their body is upside down.

The lion chuffs again; this time, it seems amused. It starts moving, and Rho squeaks as the saddle shifts backward with momentum, wriggling and thrashing in an attempt to free their trapped limbs.

“No no no no—agh, stop moving!” Rho says frantically. The loosened saddle is just tight enough that it doesn’t slide even as Kova continues to stroll forward, and their legs are tied firmly enough to the stirrups that they don’t move too much, but the slightly longer ties on their wrists make Rho swing forward and back awkwardly, making it hard to even try to free themselves.

It takes several minutes before Rho finally gives up and accepts their fate, groaning in humiliation. Some guard is going to come back from the festival and find them riding a lion upside down. The other courtesans will never let them hear the end of this.

Speaking of awkward…

The lion’s started purring. Kova’s rumbles loud enough to radiate throughout its entire body and through the saddle. The ties are loose enough that they’re hanging several centimeters below the saddle, so they aren’t pressed up against it, but just the sheer power of those vibrations… Rho stifles an embarrassingly needy whimper, their face scrunching in humiliation as they feel their cocklet twitch.

Rho cries out as the lion rears up on its hind legs in front of the brazier. “What are you—ack— _oof!”_ Sheer gravity makes Rho swing down against Kova’s belly, and they splutter against its belly fur.

The saddle is still tight enough that it doesn’t shift down the lion’s torso much, but it moves enough that Rho can feel themselves sinking lower. Rho has a sudden idea—they could help the saddle slide all the way down its torso and legs, and then they’d at least be off the lion! Right?

They start wriggling, trying to inch the saddle lower. Much to their excitement, it works, and they squirm harder, sinking more, little by little, until—

Rho startles when something hard, warm, and wet pokes at their bare thigh. “Wha—”

Where the object poked, warmth blooms. Rho panics, thinking they’re bleeding, until the warmth spreads upwards and throughout their whole body. To their shock, their pussy _throbs,_ and they huff out a startled moan. “Ungh?!”

They squirm away, trying to figure out what the object is, but now the saddle is slipping further and further down, forcing the object to drag along their inner thigh, leaving a searing trail in its wake that bleeds throughout their entire body until even their toes tingle. Rho whines, trying to twitch their hips away, but it’s no use—they simply sink lower and lower until the tapered end of the object is shoving right along their cunt, sliding against the fabric of their panties. It pushes at the thin strip of cloth covering their cunt before knocking it to the side, and Rho shudders at the movement, trying to arch away. It doesn’t work; the pointed tip slides along their hot, puffy pussy, brushing their clit. Fuck, they’re burning now. Rho arches with a gasp, pussy spasming against the object, and—

The arch is just the right angle. The object catches, and finally Rho realizes, just as the tip sinks into them and splits them open: it’s covered in dull spikes and hair-thin, feathery little barbs. This is Kova’s _cock._

Rho writhes in blind panic, trying to get off it. All they succeed in doing is grinding the feathery, tickling barbs against their walls. A veritable wall of pleasure slams into Rho, and they let out a startled cry. _It’s hot. It’s so hot. My pussy—it’s burning—_

Then Kova’s front paws come down. Rho squeaks as the movement rocks them harder onto its cock. The momentum swings them forward, forcing the cock to slide out of them slightly, but the barbs flare right before it pulls out entirely. Kova doesn’t move, just stays oddly stock-still.

Rho starts squirming, trying to rock themselves—forward or backward, they’re not entirely sure. Its cock is mostly out, the barbs at the tip keeping the cock from pulling out any further. They’re just hanging there, unable to escape, with a lion’s barbed cock half-stuffing their pussy.

The spikes flutter inside their pussy. Without thinking, Rho lets out a tiny omegan chirp. Kova chuffs and starts walking.

(Kova can’t help but feel a little displeased. While the other lions are out celebrating a human festival and probably eating tasty festival meat, Kova’s stuck patrolling alone with only a cock sleeve to keep them company. And not even a high-quality cock sleeve, either—good cock sleeves take the _whole_ cock, not just the tip.)

Rho whimpers as the lion walks. Each step causes them to jerk forward a bit with the momentum. Each forward movement makes the spikes on the tip flare out, and Rho whines, letting their head fall back as the feather-like barbs brush against the walls of their cunt.

The courtesan tries to think of ways to get off, to escape, but it’s so hard to keep their mind focused. By the time they gather the mental power to focus several minutes later, the lion is rearing up on its hind paws again, and Rho whines in despair as they slide down a little more.

The process repeats, and each time, Kova’s cock leave Rho a little more winded. They’re soaked and loose, but it’s still _huge._ Rho keeps sliding ever downward, and the widening cock splits their hole open further the more they sink. Kova is an enormous lion and its cock matches its size. Rho can’t breathe, can’t stop drooling. It’s bigger than any of their practice toys, than any human they’ve ever had, and it’s just the right angle for the shaft to grind all the way up their front wall.

“Nnngwohh—big, _unhng—”_

Their lucid periods between each signal grow shorter and shorter, until they can’t even begin to comprehend getting free, too distracted by the cock splitting them open. They’re a mess; their dress is rumpled, their entire body keeps spasming with each flare of the dull spikes, and they’re drenched with sweat, soaking through their dress and their panties to the point that the fabric is fully see-through. Their nipples are visible where they poke through the fabric and their cock is fully erect, straining and drenching their panties where the tip is still trapped. It feels so, so good and it just keeps _going—_ every time Rho thinks they’ll reach the end, they’re wrong.

Finally, finally, Kova’s cock bottoms out. Its tip presses right up against their cervix, and with all of Rho’s weight bearing down on it, it feels like the head is trying to breach into their womb. Rho gasps for breath, tears spilling down their cheeks and smearing the makeup around their eyes slightly. Their cocklet is drooling all over their belly, leaving a messy trail as it twitches—they’ve already come, just by being stuffed with a lion’s cock.

Kova finishes signaling and begins its patrol once more. “Hiinggh—” Rho’s eyes roll back as they’re rocked forward and backward with the lion’s trot, bumped forward each time their ass collides with the beast’s hind legs and swinging back onto the lion’s girth. Kova’s cock saws in and out of their pussy, fucked fast and deep with its quick-paced walk, and Rho squeals, their pussy gushing as the barbed spikes catch repeatedly against their g-spot, the pointed tip slamming against their cervix.

The lion keeps moving. (It’s on patrol, after all, and as fun as their new cock sleeve is, they have a job to do.) Rho has no choice but to hang there, its length plunging relentlessly into their hole as the lion works. They simply whine and screech, forced through orgasm after orgasm until the pleasure blends together in a continuous stream, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it. With each bounce, the tip pushes into the entrance of their womb, slowly loosening the tight, hot opening. When it finally breaches their loosened cervix, barbs scraping as its spikes flutter, Rho’s high-pitched wail as they cum makes Kova’s ears flick in irritation.

(For Kova, it’s pleasurable, but a little inconvenient. After all, their cock sleeve's bottom keeps smacking against their hind legs, which makes it hard to walk, and after a while, the dumb thing starts spraying liquid and squealing at the top of its lungs. It’d be annoying if its tight little breeding hole wasn’t so nice and warm and twitchy. But it’s worth it when they feel their knot start to pop.)

When the lion’s knot swells and catches inside Rho’s cunt, locking inside firmly, the barbs flare out fully, and Rho chokes on their own drool. “Hhggk— _ggnuh—”_

Slick—or is it piss?—sprays from them. Kova makes a dismayed chuffing sound as their fur is soaked but keeps patrolling, and Rho trembles as the stream intensifies, forced out as the knot and flared barbs are tugged and ground harshly inside their pussy with each movement.

Rho barely has the presence of mind to pray that someone will discover them and set them free before they’re cock-dumb beyond saving, but it’s a fleeting thought. It’s hard to even remember why they’d even be embarrassed about getting caught. Then it gets harder to remember why they’d want to be freed, and after that, it’s hard to think of anything—their name, their existence as anything more than a beast’s cock sleeve, words—anything except the nice, huge cock that’s ruining their fat, wobbly pussy with a big knot and hot, tingly barbs.

They’re ruined, all cock-dumb and burbling, and the lion pays no mind to its pretty little cock sleeve. It just keeps patrolling, letting the sleeve do all the work as it walks. Eventually, the courtesan passes out, and still, Kova keeps its attention focused on its task, never once straying from its patrol even when its knot goes down and its cock goes soft and retracts.

Over the span of the next several minutes, Rho regains consciousness, feeling blurry and aching. They wince as their head throbs painfully, squinting as they regain their sight. As the minutes pass, they gain full consciousness—along with a deep sense of humiliation.

They just came. Repeatedly. On a _lion’s cock._ Rho’s very lucky they didn’t lose themselves entirely—a couple more minutes, and they’d probably be knot-dumb forever. And for that matter, why does it even _have_ a knot?

Shaking themselves, Rho wriggles, groaning hoarsely in frustration. Their ties are no looser than when they first tied them. Curse their excellent courtesan skills!

(Unfortunately, it seems that this is far from their most pressing problem.)

Rho stiffens, their stomach dropping in terror as they feel something warm and hot poke against their cunt. It seems the lion is regaining its strength, as well.

Rho tries to squirm away, but the ties are still tight, they can’t angle their weakened body to the side enough to escape the ever-growing lion’s cock, and they’re still too soaked. The cock pushes right back in as it grows, its spikes flaring to life, and Rho whimpers in despair, hot pleasure flooding through their body in waves once more as they’re jerked up and down its cock with each step.

It keeps growing, and Rho thrashes, gasping and whining as it spreads them wide around its girth a second time. Their cervix is still hot and loose, and as it pushes past its weakened grip with ease, Rho squeals again, cock twitching as they cum dry.

(So it gets to use this dumb little sleeve for the whole patrol. Kova is pleased.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


Eventually, of course, they’re discovered. The hapless guard who came to relieve Kova of duty for early-morning patrols finds the enormous silver lion with a courtesan strapped to the lion by a stolen Guide’s saddle and hanging off the lion’s cock. With an incoherent, cum-soaked courtesan still stuck on the damn lion’s knot, the poor guard ends up enlisting the help of eleven other guards, their commanding officer, two Guides, and a fertility physician to corner and sedate Kova, pull the poor omega off its knot, and attempt to decipher the courtesan’s babbling to investigate how the hell it all happened.

“… Well, they’re at least stable enough to move them to the infirmary, but we won’t know if they’re mentally fit to return to their duties until they regain consciousness,” the physician says with a sigh.

The nearest door to the palace wall bangs open, and everyone jumps at the noise. In strides a tall, stern-faced woman in billowing blue robes. Behind her are several whispering courtesans, all of whom rush the victim’s limp form and crowd the bemused guards and Guides out of the way, talking noisily among themselves.

“Head Courtesan Lilian,” the Centurion says, bowing.

“Centurion Selene. I see you’ve recovered one of my pupils. Congratulations on your marriage to my ex-pupil Naya, by the way.”

“Er—yes, thank you,” the Centurion says awkwardly. “We found Courtesan Rho—”

The Head Courtesan waves a dismissive hand. “Yes, I’ve heard. I apologize deeply for any trouble they’ve caused.”

“Is Rho dead?” one of the courtesans asks the physician, who blinks.

“Ah—well, no, but—”

“They look knot-dumb. Are they knot-dumb now?” another asks.

“Well, we won’t—”

“Can they still talk?”

“I—”

“Is that a war lion?”

“Can I ride it?”

“Is that a _knot?_ Why does it have that?”

“Is it dead?”

“Students!” Lilian snaps, and the courtesans fall silent. “Stop bothering the physician and help Rho stand.”

The physician protests, “Head Courtesan, I don’t think—”

Lilian ignores her, nodding in approval when the courtesans flank Rho’s sides and haul the still-incoherent Rho to their feet. “Good. Now.” One hand darts out and grabs Rho by the ear.

Rho whines. “M’er,” they mumble. “Owie.”

“Junior Courtesan Rhododendron, you foolish brat,” Mother hisses. “What in the gods’ names did you get yourself into?”

“Damn courtesans,” one Guide mutters. “It’s not like this could ever happen to one of _us.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *john cena voice* ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?


	4. punish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crown Prince Adrianus wreaks havoc and is subsequently punished by Orys the lion and his personal guard, Sorrel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adri: deeply insults a very large and intelligent lion with a reputation for being cruel and horny  
> adri: is immediately fucked in punishment  
> adri: "oh no who could have predicted there would be consequences for my actions?!!"

If you ask Sorrel, the prince’s close-friend-turned-royal-guard, it’s all that academy’s fault that Adrianus Iphidrion Ulstoria Hypoercernium V, the Crown Prince of Iphidri, turned out the way he is now.

He’d been such a kind child, always insisting on helping out in the kitchen and running around the palace on fat little legs, tottering about with packages to “help” the Guides and the courtesans. Sorrel remembers spending hours keeping the neediest adolescent lion cubs company just because Prince Adri couldn’t handle their sad cries.

All of that changed when the Crown Prince left the capitol’s public school system to study at an international boarding school for several years. When he came back, his pretty face was constantly marred with ugly sneers, flouncing around the palace grounds and haranguing any servant that dared to upset him. Gone was the sweet boy who followed Sorrel around everywhere and picked flowers for his family members. In his place was a vain, immature brat who screamed at anyone who upset him and clung to any handsome servant who caught his eye, including Sorrel.

The Queens had begged Sorrel to be his personal guard merely days after the prince had returned to the capitol and immediately started wreaking havoc. “You were such a good influence on him when he was a child,” they’d told him. “And it’s clear he still respects _you,_ at least. If you stay with him now, he’ll get better.”

Sorrel … doesn’t think they’re _wrong,_ per se, but he also isn’t sure how to convey that their firstborn is far more interested in trying to goad his oldest friend into losing control and mating him, not listening to what Sorrel has to say. But they’re excellent diplomats and wise rulers, and he _does_ love Adri, so he chose to trust their judgment and agreed.

Now, months later, Sorrel’s managed to cut the tantrums down significantly, but he finds himself at a loss for how to get rid of that nasty attitude towards “commoners”.

More than just “commoners”, in fact—apparently his dear prince can’t abide by the lions anymore. Apparently, he thinks “they smell horrible” and “they shouldn’t be allowed inside the castle”. It seems the prince has forgotten every interaction he had with lions—it’s the only explanation as to why he thinks they’re “just dumb animals” and not beloved members of the palace who deserve respect and kindness the same as humans. One of these days, Sorrel is sure that the lions, unimpressed as they are with Adri’s attitude towards them, will decide to stop tolerating Adri’s behavior.

* * *

It’s been months since Adri returned to Iphidri, and he’s about to _lose his mind._

He’s the Crown Prince and the prettiest and best person he knows. He doesn’t understand why he has to go out and _mingle_ with _commoners._ He’d hoped he’d at least be able to enjoy the food and the shopping, but all the latest trends are hideous and everywhere they go, everything’s been visibly touched by the uncivilized masses. It’s got to be unclean and unsafe. On top of things, Adri can’t even enjoy any time alone with Sorrel—the man isn’t even paying attention to him, and to make matters worse, they had to bring one of the stupid lions with them. Which makes no sense—Orys may be a smaller lion, but it still can’t fit into most of the stores, so it’s stuck waiting around outside, blinding everyone with its dumb metallic fur and generally being a nuisance.

Sometimes, Adri wishes he could go back to the West. At least there, people knew to respect _status._ Here, everything’s boring and he can’t do anything fun and escape the consequences like he could with his friends at school. Even Sorrel isn’t paying attention to him right now.

“You should be paying attention to me right now,” Adri tells Sorrel, stamping his foot stubbornly.

Sorrel takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I _am_ paying attention to you, little prince.”

Adri huffs, tossing his hair back. “If you were paying attention to me, you’d be complimenting me.” He twirls, showing off the accumulated gems decorating his arms. “Because I’m beautiful.”

“You do look very nice,” the shop keeper says cheerfully. “Those are pearls are hand-gathered from the Agrian Sea. This is the latest style in the capitol, as well.”

“Orys—Orys, leave that man alone!” Sorrel calls, hurrying towards the door, his eyes fixed on the golden lion stalking some scantily-clad man in the street.

“Dumb animal,” Adri mutters under his breath. “Ugh, I don’t even _want_ this anymore.” Adri yanks at the jewelry strands draping his body. The shopkeeper cries out as the thin chains snap off of him, the beads scattering everywhere, and he drops the strand on the floor, kicking at them with a disgusted noise.

“The jewelry!” they cry, floundering as they scramble for the beads. “That took me weeks to create!” They shoot an affronted glare at the prince. “Are you at least going to compensate me for breaking it?”

“Pay for _that?”_ The prince scoffs. “What, you mean give you money for these scraps? As if. Besides … ” The prince smirks. “Didn’t you just rip it all up yourself?”

“What—but you just—!”

Adri leans closer with a grin. “You really think anyone would believe a filthy little commoner like you over a handsome prince like me?”

The shop owner bristles. “With all due respect, sir, you have no power over—hey!”

But Adri is already sprinting out of the shop, laughing as he ducks and weaves between startled shoppers. Behind him, he hears Sorrel call out his name. He leaps onto a moving cart and, turning back, makes a rude gesture at the guard, grinning as he watches Sorrel and a very disgruntled lion fight their way through the crowd, the latter doing so with far more success.

 _Not today._ Adri stands and, with a whoop, jumps off the cart and into a textile shop display. He shoves a man out of the way, grabbing an assortment of now-ripped cloth and displays and tossing them into the street behind him to slow his pursuers down.

“My scarf!” The man drops to his knees, scrabbling for the cloth with an anguished face. “That was my grandmother’s!”

The prince ignores him, sprinting away with a wild laugh as he shoves several boxes of fruit and knocks them to the ground. He dashes in a zigzag pattern, dashing from stall to stall and sweeping the wares of each booth he crosses into the startled crowd. Behind him, the golden lion is getting farther and farther away, trying to tiptoe around the messes Adri has made.

When the prince finally stops to survey his work from atop a very disgruntled old woman’s balcony, the market is a mess—people are screaming, many of the stalls and shops are destroyed, and there’s smoke rising from more than one tent. _Not that it’s any_ _more of an eyesore_ _now than it was before_ _,_ Adri thinks disdainfully.

Unfortunately, that damned lion is getting closer and closer. It’s spotted Adri from his post and is making its way towards the balcony with disturbing speed, golden eyes flashing.

Time to go. Adri swings down from the balcony and onto another stand’s canvas roof, bouncing as he scrambles off the roof and tumbling onto the ground. He sprints into a random building across the street.

It’s a fine porcelain store, but Adri barely notices as he hunches down, peeking through the open window. The lion is sprinting towards the shop, and, too late, Adri realizes it’s more than capable of fitting through the doorway.

“Sir? Excuse me—”

Adri snatches a random figurine and tosses it at the lion as it crashes through the swinging door; it roars in pain when the porcelain shatters against its shoulder. “How do you like that, you stupid beast?”

“My figurines!” the shopkeeper cries. “I spent weeks making that one!”

The prince ignores her, tossing more figurines. The lion can barely move—it’s too busy trying to get to Adri without knocking any delicate porcelain to the ground and avoid stepping on the sharp shards. Its tail swishes as it roars at Adri.

The prince sends another figurine flying just as Sorrel bursts through the door. The figurine misses the lion and slams into Sorrel's face, and he winces as it shatters on impact and snaps his head to the side with the force of it, sending rivulets of dark blood down the man’s cheek.

“Oops,” Adri says, blinking awkwardly. “Uh…”

He hesitates just enough for the lion to finally knock him to the ground with a deep growl. Adri yelps, thrashing about as Sorrel leaps forward and drags the prince out of the store.

“Are you finished, little prince?” the guard snaps, tossing Adri unceremoniously onto the ground. The prince squawks in affront, scrambling to his feet. “Care to explain your little adventure through the day market?”

“Wait!” The porcelain shopkeeper stumbles out of her shop. “You just destroyed half my shop! I’m not letting you leave my sight until you pay me for the damage!”

“Whatever, it was trash anyways,” the prince sniffs.

“You ruined several businesses!” Sorrel shouts. “This is a lot of people’s entire livelihoods!”

“Like it matters. Who even cares about some peasant trash losing some of their low-class garbage?” Adri huffs. Around him, they’re drawing a crowd of disgruntled merchants and curious onlookers. “Anyways, it was that stupid cat’s fault, not mine, so why are you blaming me?” He waves a dismissive hand towards the growling lion. “Obviously it just blundered through the crowd—”

Sorrel laughs incredulously. “Orys was _trying_ to keep you from getting into trouble—”

“—and like the big dumb animal it is, it accidentally—AAAHH!”

Prince Adri screeches as he’s knocked over, crashing into the ground. Several people scream as the prince’s back smacks into the stone-paved road, two enormous paws planting themselves hard beside his head, claws grinding and slicing against the stones. Above him, Orys is snarling, sharp white teeth inches from the tip of his nose, breath hot and damp and smelling more than little like blood. One enormous paw plants itself right where Adri’s tunic has bunched up at his shoulder, holding him down.

“Get _off_ me, you _stupid beast!”_ The prince flails, kicking at the lion seated firmly between his legs, but his tunic is still caught beneath the lion’s paw; all he succeeds in doing is arching his back. Orys may be on the small side for a Nimian lion, but it’s still larger than any normal lion; Adri’s legs are spread wide and shoved back towards his chest, simply from the size of its golden torso. As the lion shuffles forward, it forces the writhing prince’s legs back further until his hips are pinned down around the golden lion’s hind.

The crowd murmurs at the sight. “Is that a…” one of the onlookers mutters.

“Breeding press, yeah.” A merchant harrumphs. “Well, it’d serve the brat right.”

“Don’t just _stand_ there, you idiots! Sorrel, _help me!!”_

Sorrel meanders forward, swinging a small knife loosely in one hand. “Sure, I’ll help you.” He kneels, gracefully avoiding the prince’s flailing feet and arms as he squats behind the lion. Carefully, he pushes the prince’s tunic out of the way. With a quick slice of his knife, he reduces the prince’s fancy cotton thong to shreds.

Adri gasps, wriggling as cool air hits his skin. “What are you—”

Something stiff and hot and covered with dull, fluffy spines scrapes right over the seam of Adri’s cunt and up along the underside of his cock. Adri’s startled yelp dissolves into a shaky cry as heat cascades through his crotch. He’s suddenly dizzied by the sensation of blood rushing between his legs, can actually feel his labia chub up and his clit plump.

“No—get it off,” Adri whines, thrashing harder. Orys ignores him; the lion keeps humping forward with a chuff, grinding the thick, spine-studded shaft of its cock against the prince’s folds. “Nnhh—!” He squeezes his eyes shut in humiliation as he hears slick sounds start to accompany each thrust.

“Don’t fight it, princey,” someone calls out. “Some of us want a show.”

“Think of it as accepting the consequences for your actions,” another says.

Another snickers. “That’s a pretty big consequence for a tiny peach to handle.” The crowd rumbles with laughter, and Adri’s face burns even hotter.

“Sorrel,” he gasps. “Please, don’t let it—unhh—” His head falls back as the pointed tip of the cock slips in with a slick noise, just barely inside, the hole clenching around the tapered head. His own cock twitches, brushing against the lion’s gold fur. Orys pauses, its ears flicking. “I’ll _tear.”_

Sorrel tuts as he accepts a handkerchief from a shopkeeper, pressing it to his bleeding cheek. “Trust me, it’s better than letting you get mauled by an angry mob. Orys … go ahead. I know you want to.”

The lion chuffs again, and Adri whimpers as the lion starts moving again. His pussy doesn’t tear. It struggles, straining against the pressure of Orys' cock, and then it gives suddenly, and Adri shrieks as Orys' cock barrels inside, the pointed tip slamming against his cervix. His pussy spasms as the dull spikes rake along his walls, feather-like barbs scraping and tingling and then burning.

It’s too intense. Adri is suddenly terrified that he’ll break. Orys hasn’t even started thrusting, and he’s already on the verge of coming.

Adri always imagined his first time being with Sorrel, after pushing his friend a little too far. Maybe he’d surprise the guard by bending over with no panties, just his slick, puffy folds poking out from beneath his gold silk tunics, and then there’d be a cock stretching him open and ruining his pretty little peach. Maybe their cycles would sync up, but this time, Sorrel would finally open his bedroom door and let Adri sink down on his cock. Maybe he’d piss the beta off just a little too much and get rage-fucked for hours.

He never imagined getting plowed by a beast.

It’s _huge._ Every thrust forward forces air out of Adri’s lungs and pushes him a little harder into the ground; each time the lion pulls back, the spines flare, pulling the whimpering prince’s hips up off the paved stones just slightly. Adri’s played with himself before—often—but it keeps going deeper, somehow stuffing its huge girth inside his tiny, chubby little pussy. Adri can’t even lift his own head, but he’s sure that if he could manage to look at his own stomach, he’d see a bulge. Already, his cunt is all puffy and soaking and his cocklet is swollen and dark.

Orys rumbles, and the prince whines, his legs shaking; the noise sends vibrations all the way down from its chest and through its body. Its golden fur brushes against Adri’s cock with every thrust, and it twitches, a bead of precum dripping from the tip.

“Unhh, stop— _stoph—”_ Adri’s hands come up to push at the lion weakly. The lion purrs and fucks in a little faster. He squeaks as the cock grinds right along his sweet spot from tip to base, a cruel back-and-forth. His hands push a little more insistently, frantic. “Shtoph, shtoph, _ahhn, I can’t—”_

Sorrel chuckles, watching as Adri’s hole clenches around the beast’s cock, spasming as the spines pop in and out. “You think you’re some cheeky slut, always shaking your hips and harassing every servant that catches your eye, but a tight little virgin like you can’t even handle a beast’s cock. You’re just a brat who wanted attention, hm?”

 _It’s a damn_ big _beast’s cock,_ Adri wants to say, but it’s hard to say anything. In fact, it’s hard to think with those damn spikes, feathery barbs warming his pussy and making it all swollen and tight around the beast’s girth.

“Unh, ’sh big,” Adri finally manages, panting. His hands come up to wrap as best they can around the lion’s front paws, fingers winding through the fur. Orys purrs. “Wuzz—?”

There’s a swell at the base of the lion’s cock. Adri’s head lolls, squeaking as the base starts to expand, popping in and out of his ruined pussy with nasty, wet noises. Around them, the crowd cheers.

“Yeah, knot that brat’s pussy,” someone yells. “Teach him a lesson!”

“Knotting already?” Sorrel asks Orys, who rumbles. The lion grinds its hips down as the knot expands fully. Adri whimpers as his pussy trembles; the knot pops in with a slick noise, stretching the little hole obscenely, and the prince orgasms instantly with a loud squeal. “That’s right, you were with Davi earlier, weren’t you? Hey, little prince. You’re lucky Orys had a little fun earlier today,” Sorrel tells Adri. The prince doesn’t respond, his tongue lolling out and eyes crossed in dumb ecstasy as the beast pumps its cum deep in his womb and makes his belly swell. “Otherwise we’d need a new future ruler.”

Orys croons, eyes squinting in pleasure as it humps its knot in greedily, fucking Adri through the aftershocks. The omega chirps at the gesture, feet curling inwards and pussy stretched wide and twitching around Orys’ cock. When his stuffed belly won't fill anymore, frothy cum starts spilling out around the lion's girth in rivulets.

When the lion pulls out, Adri’s hole tightens up, pussy visibly clinging to the beast’s cock. It takes a few tries, but finally Orys manages to pull its quickly-deflating knot out of Adri’s ruined hole with a pop. Adri collapses limply onto the paved stones, his legs falling to the side as he trembles, all blissed out as cum spills from his cunt.

“What a sweet picture,” someone jeers from the side. “Fat lion cock pressed against a sloppy pussy.”

“Is he all right?” another asks, visibly concerned. “That was a pretty big knot to take for a first-timer.”

Orys pads away in disinterest, seating itself on the ground before raising one leg and cleaning its messy crotch with a rough pink tongue. Sorrel sidles forward, inspecting the prince. “Mm, he’ll be fine.” He tugs Adri into a sitting position, resting the prince’s limp body against his chest, and, with a grin, slides his hand down the prince’s twitching, still-full belly.

“You know, I’ve wanted to do this for a while now,” Sorrel muses, nibbling at Adri’s ear and rumbling as the prince whines, squirming as his friend’s hand comes into contact with his still-hard cock. Sorrel’s rolling fingertips force milky little spurts from his cocklet and it makes Adri squeal. “Always showing up at my door before your heats, flashing this sweet little cock at me to try to get me to take care of you.” Sorrel toys with his clit, milking it until it’s a clit-cock nearly the size of his cocklet. “Finally got what you wanted, huh?”

Adri wriggles, one hand coming up to yank weakly at Sorrel’s tunic, chin pushing out and lips pushing out in a needy pout. _“Mmn.”_

The guard chuckles and leans forward, capturing the prince’s lips in a firm kiss. Adri’s eyes roll back as he weakly tries to kiss back, and white cum spurts from his cock and dirties Sorrel’s hand. There are a few loud cheers from the small crowd and someone even applauds. Sorrel's hand keeps moving, swallowing Adri's frantic, wordless begging that cuts off in a whine right before a stream of clear fluid gushes from his pussy.

The crowd shouts, laughter echoing down the street. “Oooh, the nasty little thing's a squirter,” a woman coos.

The prince whines as Sorrel leans him back down onto the ground gently. Adri’s lower lip trembles. “Nngh?”

Orys pads over, snuffling at Adri’s cunt with renewed interest. The prince squirms weakly, shaking his head back and forth as the lion’s cock slides through the sticky, frothy mess dripping from his pussy, making it twitch. “Nwohh—Sowwel, wan’ you— _hhhng.”_

He gasps as the lion plunges its cock back inside with ease, thighs trembling as the beast hunches forward, sawing in and out of his pussy with greedy thrusts. Sorrel stands, clearing a path through the crowd.

“C’me bahgk,” Adri slurs, reaching for Sorrel with shaking hands and making grabby fingers. “Lehmme gwo— _hunngh.”_ His eyes roll back.

“I’m going to find your wallet, baby,” the guard calls. “You need to pay back all the citizens for the things you broke, little prince. Better hope I find it before you break, hm?”

Orys purrs, fucking in quickly and forcing the spines on its cock to catch on Adri’s clit as its cock plunges in. Adri sobs as he squirts again. The crowd jeers.

* * *

Surprisingly, Sorrel finds the wallet lying untouched on one of the display tables at the last merchant’s shop. There’s not even a single coin missing. But the merchants all recognize him as the prince’s escort and won’t let him leave, so he takes his time and stops at every last shop, residence, and market stall the prince blustered through. He pays each and every last one, promising to return later with the prince to apologize in person.

By the time the guard finally returns to the front of the shop and pays the last merchant, Adri is a babbling, drooling mess, surrounded by an even bigger crowd. It seems like Orys got tired and decided to lay back, sprawled out like the cat he is and purring. Adri is still trapped on the lion’s cock, straddling the beast and rocking his hips and grinding his tiny, twitchy cocks against the vibrant gold fur. His ruined clothes are soaked through with sweat, so his taut little nipples poke through the thin cloth obscenely. There’s a nasty puddle beneath him, likely slick and squirt and probably more than a little piss.

“One more time!” The crowd chants.

Adri’s hips judder to a halt as he arches his back and cums yet again to applause and laughter. He looks so beautifully cock-dumb like that—tongue lolling, squealing as his pussy squirts so hard that it sprays around the barbed knot and his jerking cock gets more than a few boots wet.

Sorrel admires the scene for a few more orgasms before finally sighing and stepping forward, shooing the crowd away. When he can see the barbs at the base that couldn’t fit in Adri’s pussy flatten, he takes the cue and slides his arms under the prince’s armpits, yanking hard. Adri’s pussy resists, still clutching the deflating knot, before finally releasing with a nasty squelch. Sorrel laughs as the prince immediately squirts again; he sits them back and shifts his grip so he can grasp Adri’s cocklets tight and _tug._

“Nwo _ohh—aahhnng—”_ Adri shrieks, writhing as the guard’s calluses catch on the twitching flesh, rocking into the ruthless pumps. His thighs tense as cum shoots out from both his pussy and his cocklet in long, stuttered streams.

To the side, Orys rolls into a sitting position, tail twitching as its bright tawny eyes fixate on the frothy cum dripping from the prince’s pussy. Sorrel keeps stroking, forcing out more spurts and laughing as Adri’s legs thrash and kick out from the overstimulation. “Huunh, my clitty— _shtohp—”_

“Finally learned your lesson, brat?” The guard releases his cock, only to raise his hand and spank the prince’s cunt hard. Adri squeals, fat little pussy spasming against Sorrel’s thick fingers with each stinging slap. “Ready to apologize?”

“’Mnngh—’m sowwy,” The prince slurs. _“Pweash_ —nwoh more, m’ gonna—”

With one last, brutal smack, this time catching his cocklets and pussy, the prince arches in the guard’s grip with a dramatic scream, jets of piss shooting out and splattering in his nasty puddle, pussy folds twitching violently as he orgasms. _What a beautiful sight,_ Sorrel thinks, watching fresh tears cut through the dried tear tracks on Adri's cheeks.

Orys’ purrs are deafening. When the stream ends, the lion nudges forward and laps at Adri’s pussy again with its rough tongue, rumbling as the prince wails and thrashes.

Sorrel holds him still with one arm, pressing soft kisses to Adri’s temple; he slides his free hand down to spread the folds of Adri's pussy, letting the lion dip its tongue into the prince’s swollen cunt over and over and _over._ “You look so good like this, little prince,” he murmurs in Adri's ear. “Maybe I'll tie you up every time you misbehave, let all the palace lions teach you a lesson.”

Adri whines, letting his head fall to the side and baring his neck to Sorrel. Sorrel chuckles, leaning down to lap at the prince's bonding gland. The prince gasps, chirping as his guard teases at the spot with his teeth.

The lion manages to force one last orgasm from the prince before he finally goes boneless in Sorrel's arms, still twitching. Sorrel grins; his little prince’s ruined peach is even more swollen and irritated from the beast’s tongue. Then he wrinkles his nose at the puddle. “Agh, my little prince made another mess.”

“He’ll grow out of his troublemaker phase, won’t he?” the figurine shopkeeper mutters from off to the side. “You realize there’ll be riots if he’s crowned and still no less of an entitled brat, yes?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Sorrel tells her. “But I’m sure he’ll shape up eventually. I wouldn’t be his friend if I thought otherwise. Anyways—sorry about the mess again, Ma’am,” he says cheerily, hefting a drooling, incoherent prince over his shoulder.

“It’s fine, I suppose,” the shopkeeper says with a long-suffering sigh. “I've got my weight in gold now, don’t I?”

The guard laughs. “We’ll be back for a genuine apology soon. Have a wonderful day.”

And with that, he turns back to the palace with Orys at his side, ready to head home after a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adri: "you can't just punish me with orys' knot when i destroy the city!!!"  
> sorrel: "haha lion go purrrr"  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> not shown but canon:  
> —selene is the only omega who resisted the total mindbreak through sheer willpower and was never (unwillingly) fucked again  
> —orys ate davi's arm. she and orys are cool tho they still fuck  
> —rini never stops getting harassed by heli. sometimes they'll be working and heli will just bust out of nowhere like "HEY BABE" and give the guide a heart attack  
> —rho learns from their friends that the royal guards were totally letting people ride the lions during the festival  
> —sorrel and adri get mated. they're very in love it's gross
> 
> anyways did you know you can leave an anonymous kudos/comment by reopening this fic in an incognito tab, and you can make your bookmark private? i can't see private bookmarks tho and my porn is fueled by love HINT HINT


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